Zoor do faal Dovahkiin
by Katie Partisha
Summary: Turro was once just a man, a hunter, and ex Soldier of the Imperial Legion. Now he is known as the Dovahkiin, dragonborn. Along the way, he meets a few interesting characters who joins his quest to end the terror of Alduin, the Nord God of Destruction.
1. Prologue

_This is going to be my greatest and most epic story ever (its all preplanned and there are two authors to this, me and my boyfriend). It'll keep somewhat true to the story of Skyrim, however we are making a few changes. And for future reference, I am not changing the Prophesy of the Dragonborn. If you think I am, keep reading, because all will be explained before the end._

~*~Prologue~*~

The wind was biting cold to those who were in the topless caravans as they rolled along the rocky dirt path surrounded by pine trees. Most of the prisoners wore little, with exception to two males, one with wrapping around his mouth, preventing any speaking of any kind, and the other appeared to be a soldier. While the soldier was speaking to another nord who came to be known as a horse thief, the male sitting opposite of the soldier, also a Nord, was sitting quietly, his hands bound in front of him. He watched the fast approaching Helgen keep, wondering why he was in this caravan. Of course, he understood why most of the other occupants were taken aboard. This male, Turro, had been a soldier in the Imperial Legion and had been stationed elsewhere in Tamriel, deep in Cyradiil. He served as long as he needed and left. Turro went to hunting and exploration, which brought the adventurer to the borders of Skyrim, which was under the evident threat of civil war. But how could he have known this when he had never been to Skyrim ever before? He had only found out yesterday after this soldier was brought aboard with a Jarl who was bound to prevent him from speaking. They were allowed to speak, but quietly of course.

Along the way one other carriage joined with more people. On the second day, today, they forced a horse thief aboard and an odd High Elf. The horse thief, who like most of the prisoners, was a nord, and looked extremely dirty, and perhaps a tad crazed. The high elf was very quiet, and ignored all inquiries made towards her. She was odd in the fact she had creepy red, pupiless eyes. At least Turro was more polite and answered questions, but of course said no more than necessary.

"Be quiet back there!" snapped on of the guards towards the soldier and the horse thief.

The horse thief shook his head and ignored the imperial. "What's his problem?" he asked the soldier, pointing at the Jarl.

"Wha- Watch your tongue, horse thief!" the soldier said, looking darkly at the other man. "That's Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the TRUE high king, you are speaking to!"

"You mean the Jarl of Windhelm? The one that… Shouted the high king to death?"

"The one and the same."

Turro looked back at the man who was bound at the mouth, this man who shouted someone to death. His thoughts went to how impossible that was, and perhaps the man was some kind of mage.

But even mages, at least the ones he knew, used their hands, scrolls, even staffs, but not their voices.

Maybe Skyrim mages were different in some way?

His thoughts were interrupted by one of the Helgen gatekeepers yelling towards someone behind the gate.

"General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!"

"Good, let's get this over with," spoke the General in response as the gates opened for the caravan.

Headsmen? Wait, we are getting executed? Turro thought hard about what happened. Almost as soon as he crossed the border he came across a group of fighting men. All of them aside from one Imperialist survived, and he took Turro under arrest. The male's brow pulled into an angry frown. So he was going to get his head lobbed off for a mistake?

The caravan pulled in through the gates, the clopping of the horses becoming more and more evident. Each step brought him to a very untimely death.

"There is General Tullius himself," sneered the soldier. "And with the Thalmor no less! I bet they had something to do with this."

Turro glanced at the man and woman on horseback, both in heavy armor, surrounded by the tall and gangly sharp faced elves. He noticed a lack of surprise, even recognision from the imprisoned elven female's face.

The caravans stopped near a wall. Nearby stood a block, and an executioner. Behind them loomed a stone tower, which almost seemed to mock them. Civilians went inside, ushering children quickly to go, away from this horror which was about to start in front of their very faces.

"Wait! Why are we stopping?" demanded the horse thief, looking more crazed than ever.

"Because it's the end of the line, that's why," the soldier responded when the Imperials ignored him.

They all exited the carriages hesitantly, all thinking of what was to come.

"Go to the block when we call your name!" snarled a woman in bright, shiny armor. Turro noted that there wasn't a single blemish on her armor, indicating either she never saw any fighting herself, or she put on a brand new suit of armor just for the occasion. Both of which pointed to the same conclusion.

"Damn Imperials and their 'Lists'," the soldier scoffed.

Turro faced his fate silently, while the horse thief got jumpier than ever.

Jarl Ulfric was called first out of that carriage, followed by the soldier, Rolaf of Windhelm. When the horse thief's name was called, he panicked.

"NO! I don't belong with these traitors!" he screamed frantically.

"Get back in line!" The Bi-… I mean Imperial Officer shouted.

"You cant kill me!" he sang, evidently having lost all sanity at that point.

"Archers!" she commanded simply. Two archers bent their bows and sent two arrows into the thief's back. He didn't even make it half way to the gate. "Anyone else going to run?"

The rest of the caravan stayed silent, so they resumed their name calling. Next came the High Elf. Kathalis Windstriker. Apparently she was there for a murdering a nord. She joined the group around the block, still acting silent. Turro looked at the Thalmor watching, and they did not seem happy or anything. It appeared they were confused over the elf there as much as he was. Turro shook his head. It was hard to tell with elves sometimes. They all acted arrogant to him.

"Wait… Who are you?" the Imperial looked at his lists then back up at Turro. "He's not on our lists... Anywhere?" He flipped through the pages, scanning through them heavily.

"It's Turro Hawkeye," he offered, shrugging slightly. The imperial looked down at his lists once again, then back at the other.

"He isn't on the lists," he stated, showing the lists to the officer. She glanced at it, and faster than anyone could comprehend a word she waved it away.

"He goes to the block."

"But- " the imperial protested.

"I said he goes to the block!" she cut across him, glaring at her lessor with a do-not-dare-question-my-authority look.

The imperial sighed and waved Turro on to the block. The hunter trudged slowly towards the awaiting mass of people, feeling as though he got the bad end of the deal. What bad luck he had.

The man named General Tullius had approached Ulfric Stormcloak, and was in the process of sneering at him.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" shouted somebody, and then everyone started yelling. It ended abruptly when the officer walked over.

She looked around then looked at the woman nearby in priestess of Arkay robes. "Give them their last rites."

The priestess raised her hands to the group and began to bless the crowd to prepare them for the end of their mortal existence. A man interrupted her.

"by Talos, Shut-up so we can get this over with!"

"Very well." The priestess looked slightly peeved at being interrupted, but nonetheless walked off to watch.

The man who interrupted was the first to go. He walked to the block unhesitantly, even proudly.

Turro was sure he heard a sound of some sort at that point, just as the officer was forcing the man to his knees. But no one else was reacting more than just looking around. The prisoned high elf had the more severe reaction. She looked in the direction he guessed it came from. Her elven ears had more accurate hearing. Her alarmed look made him feel a bit uneasy.

With as far away as whatever that was, it must be huge. But after the sound of the axe splitting the male's head from his body, Turro's attention was brought to the block.

"Next, him!" The officer pointed a finger at Turro. There that sound was again! This time it was more clearly a roar of some kind. But Turro couldn't remember what animal he's encountered that sounded like that. Inwardly he felt very uneasy, in fact he could sense it was something dangerous, and large. Very large.

The crowd heard that and they murmured to themselves.

"I said next the Nord!" The officer snapped, letting no strange sound prevent her from impressing Tullius, who seemed more concerned with the sound, anyway.

Turro walked to the block, every step was numb, not with fear, but anticipation. But not of the axe. Even when he was bent over the block and the executioner was raising his axe, Turro was not afraid of the axe. Internally he knew somehow he wasn't going to just die. He kept his eyes to the sky where the high elf had been watching cautiously. Ice cold fear filled his veins when he saw it.

What he saw, he had only seen in drawings and in children's stories, and warrior tales of old.

The thing landed on the looming tower close to them roaring, causing the ground around to shake.

"Sentries! What do you see?" the officer demanded as she turned around.

Out of all the following shouts, one stood out. As the thing looked around with its piercing pupiless red eyes, its black plated and scaled body was tremendously large, its head had four horns, the primary ones longer and curved.

"Dragon!"

Turro watched from the block, his eyes widened, one dark blue, the other blank white, a scar running through it down his cheek with two more scars alongside it.

The dragon did not breath a firey death upon them all. Instead it sort of barked at them, which sent the people it aimed it at flying backwards, a thunderclap masking what Turro thought had been words of some kind.

The dragon looked at the screaming mass, clearly enjoying the carnage it had began. It barked toward Turro, sending him to the ground away from the block.

The Stormcloak soldier from before yelled at Turro to come to his senses. Turro focused on the voice, forcing the threat of blacking out away. He looked up at the blurry image of the man before him, urging him on. Turro stood up, and focused on the doorway of another tower. He rushed in, his vision clearing up swiftly, the threat of blackness going away.


	2. Chapter One: Whiterun

_The idea came to my boyfriend, William, at first. Then we both discussed it over and over again, adding things in. and so on. We both beat the game and he and I decided recently to co-write our ideas for others to enjoy. I am currently writing this while he is at work. It was his idea to write the title in dragon. Krosis, I forgot about it and accidently wrote it in English at first. But now it's in dragon. It directly translates "Legend of the Dragonborn."_

_Enjoy. Skyrim is owned by Bethesda btw, :3_

~*~Chapter One: Whiterun~*~

Ralof closed the door behind Turro after he entered.

"That was a dragon, Ulfric. A dragon! I thought that was only legends!"

Ulfric was tending to two badly hurt nords when Ralof said this. He shook his head and looked over to his shoulder as he bandaged the leg of one of the Nords.

"A legend doesn't come out of nowhere and attack."

"Yes, well regardless we need to get out of here."

Turro looked at the steps and began up them, his hands still bound together.

"Hey, there is a straw roof nearby that will break our fall. We- "

It was a good thing Turro held back to listen as a massive explosion busted open the wall where another guy was, covering him in heavy rubble. The large black dragon poked his snout in and released a heavy stream of fire at the rubble pile, finishing whoever was inside that rubble before the Dragon pushed off and flew off somewhere else.

"Go go! I'll hold back and meet you later by the keep doors!" Ralof yelled, ushering Turro onward.

The hunter took a running jump, grunted when he landed inside the ruins of the inn on his feet, and nearly fell over thanks to the fact his hands were tied uselessly in front of him. He took a step when the weakened wood gave way, sending Turro to the floor below. He grunted again as he landed on his back and with some struggling he managed to get back on his feet. Screams filled his ears, the once crisp evening air disrupted by the searing warmth of smoke and fire, and the horrendous and sickening smell of burning flesh combined with burnt wood and metal. He escaped the inn and ran outside, to the sight of the imperial soldier from before ushering a child and his father away from the dragon, who landed nearby, shooting flames after them.

"Hey you! Over here!" The imperial soldier yelled, beckoning Turro over to him. "Keep close to me, and I'll get you out of here. The guards will hold him off the best they can."

Turro followed the imperial soldier as they ran behind a house. Suddenly the imperial threw Turro against the wall, and looked up. The black dragon had landed on the wall and was unleashing its deadly flames upon a poor, unlucky imperial. His screams added to those around him and the dragon lifted off, scratching Turro on his close shaved head as the wing passed him. The imperial ran through a nearby house, passing burnt bodies, Turro rushing behind him. They ran through another section of the keep, past guards making their last stand against the huge winged reptile, even though they knew already their fate.

Turro turned his back as the dragon made a final overpass, killing them all, the flames and screams lifting up high in the air.

"Ralof! You traitor! Get out of the way!" The imperial shouted at the Stormcloak soldier. Ralof glared, his long blonde hair framing his features and his goatee surrounding his sneer.

"Come, hunter, come with me and let's get out of here." Ralof beckoned as he sped off to the door.

"No, come with me!" The imperial ran over to the other, unlocking it. He looked up and opened the door in time to see Turro following him. He shut the door behind him. "I believe that there is an underground passage through here. Let's get out of here. But first, let's remove these bounds." Turro lifted his hands as the imperial took out his knife. As he sawed through them, he said, "My name is Hadvar, by the way."

Turro nodded and when his bindings were off, he rubbed his raw wrists. The rough rope had rubbed on them a little.

"There should be some equipment somewhere in one of these chests." Hadvar looked through some of the chests. Turro put on the light armor he found and he and Hadvar hurried through the metal door.

"Those Imperials could come in at any time," said a voice beyond the levered door. "They might have a key to get through."

"Stormcloaks. They might listen to reason. We don't have to fight to get out of here," Hadvar whispered. Turro agreed and went through first.

Moments later they both walked through the doors, the stormcloaks dead behind them.

"So much for reason," Turro laughed darkly, wiping the blood off his long goatee. They made their way through the tunnels, the underground shaking and threatening to cave in at any time, the Dragon's roar was heard even down below ten feet of solid rock and dirt.

The hunter and the imperial hurried their steps, for fear of being buried alive. At one time, the tunnel collapsed, and Turro and Hadvar had been seconds away from being killed. They took a small detour around it and made it to a torture chamber.

"Gods, I wish we didn't need these," Hadvar murmured sadly. The torture sneered as they walked in.

"Well seams you were a little late."

Turro eyed the bodies on the ground. Two stormcloak soldiers and the torture's assistant. After a few exchanges between the two imperials Hadvar and Turro continued on through the vast network of tunneling, killing a few stormcloaks along the way. Turro picked up some arrows, a long bow and a great sword he found off of the fallen stormcloaks. There were a few times they had to detour thanks to some more tunnels caving in, or already blocked off. Suddenly the imperial crouched down, sucking in a breath.

"A bear."

Turro crouched with him, his one good eye trained on the huge sleeping figure.

"It's sleeping, I'm sure we can sneak past it."

Turro notched an arrow upon the long bow he picked up. He stood up quietly, stretching the string back the length of the arrow. He aimed it right near the ear and the neck. He released it and the arrow went right into the bears head. An instant death. Hadvar was impressed and astounded.

"That's quite some skill you have there. A skill the Legion would surely love to have," Hadvar stated after Turro retrieved the arrow and cleaned it off.

They made it outside just in time to see the dragons flying off towards a mountain.

"It's heading towards Whiterun," Hadvar exclaimed. "Come lets go to my uncle in Riverwood, there we can get you some supplies to prepare yourself."

They jogged, meeting little but an occasional wolf, along the way.

"You see those ruins?" Hadvar asked, pointing to the mountain. Turro slowed to a stop alongside him and looked at the odd, large angular arches that led up the mountain. "Bleak Falls Barrow. Creepy place. I used to have nightmares when I was a kid of daugr coming down the mountain and through my windows."

Once at Riverwood, they stopped at the Blacksmith's house. Turro was given a meal and supplies in his pack, and directions to Whiterun.

Turro set out alone, leaving the tiny village behind him. The scenery was beautiful along the way, the lush undergrowth and the occasional flower. Turro probably would have been enjoying a hunt through here if he had the time, but he had to get to Whiterun to protect whatever was left. Once he passed the Honeybrew Meadery, he saw the massive hold, high upon a hill, untouched by the dragon. He wondered, stroking his beared, why the dragon wouldn't attack Whiterun.

"Excuse me, sir," said a scratchy, almost hissing like feminine voice. Turro turned around to see two cat like huminoids, called khajiits. One was mainly white with a burst of black fur from her nose, extending slightly past her yellow slitted eyes, thin black and grey thin lines decorating the rest of the visable fur. The female khajiit had on what looked like black mage robes, an odd looking amulet around her neck that seemed to pulsate with mysterious power. On her head was a silver circlet with three onyx gem stones embedded upon it. She wore no shoes or gloves.

"Yes?" Turro asked her.

"Do you think you can help us get into Whiterun? They don't ever let khajiit in there but I need to speak to the Jarl about something."

The silent male behind her was mainly black, with white nose and white on his upper lip where his whiskers were. The feline was about as buff as Turro was, even if he was shorter. The feline had a Mohawk upon his head, and wore heavy steel armor, revealing that he was a warrior.

"Sure, khajiit. What are your names?" Turro asked, starting to lead them to the hold.

"Mine is Atvarii'Kal. I'm an Archmage. This is my, er, bodyguard I guess you can say. His name is R'Jurl." The female khajiit smiled, her step completely silent as she followed behind Turro.

"Curiously what's that amulet?" Turro asked. It seemed like a cheap piece of work, as compared to the jeweled circlet she wore. It had a rectangular yellow piece with an odd symbol carved into it as the amulet, and a hide string it was on, with two teeth like decorations on either side of the yellow thing.

"Oh this? This is called the Gaulder Amulet. It looks simple, but it holds enormous power which increases my magical abilities." Atvarii'kal explained. "It took quite an adventure to get it, didn't it R'jurl? Each piece in a different tomb riddled with traps and daugr and frostbite spiders. And I also had to get it Mended in a special cave."

R'Jurl simply nodded, still saying nothing.

"Sounds like you've been around," Turro said, his voice complimenting.

"Yes we have. We just got back from the infamous Bleak Falls Burrow to get this poor guy in River Wood his Golden Claw back."

The hunter nodded. He told them on the way about Helgen and the dragon that destroyed it. About it heading towards Whiterun. Atvarii'kal told him that she had seen the dragon, but it had landed somewhere near the peak of the mountain and didn't go anywhere near the hold.

Turro hurried his paces upon hearing this. It was strange but he didn't question further. Whiterun still had time.

Upon approaching the gate, the trio was stopped by the guards, asking them to state their business as Whiterun was not allowing anyone in or out thanks to the threat of the dragon. But they let them in after Turro explained he had been at Helgen.

He brushed passed the people in the town, making his way up the whiterun steps toward the ever famous "Dragonreach."

Inside the massive castle like building was the Jarl upon his throne, seemingly arguing with a man who must have been his steward. A female dark elf approached Turro and the khajiits, her sword drawn.

"What business have you here?" she demanded.

"I have news from Helgen about the dragon attack. I was there." Turro stated, crossing his arms, showing he was not grabbing his weapon.

"That would explain why the guards allowed you to come in." She sheathed her sword. "Jarl Balgruuf will definitely want to speak with you."

"Irileth is as uptight as us all about the dragon," the Jarl said apologetically. "I overheard the conversation. So you came all this way and sought me out to give warning? Where the khajiit there?"

Turro explained what happened in detail for the second time, adding in the part where he met the khajiit, who needed to talk to him about something.

The Jarl nodded and gestured for Atvarii'Kal to speak.

"Jarl Balgruuf, myself and my companion made our way here to tell you that the Falmer nearby have been vanquished. We heard that you needed them cleared out."

The Jarl smiled, nodding his thanks.

"Such an adventurous group. I may have a job for you involving the dragons," The Jarl said to Turro as he stood up.

"Well before that, Riverwood needs protection, since there is the threat of dragons." This caused the Jarl to hesitate.

"He is right. We should send protection immediately!" Irileth said, alarmed.

"No, we can't do that. The Jarl of Falkreath might take this as a provocation!" the steward argued.

The Jarl looked at the Steward like that had been the most stupidest thing ever to escape his mouth. "Really, Avenicci? Don't you have other things to do?"

"Yes, my Jarl," The steward said, clearly disgruntled.

"We will see to it that Riverwood is reinforced. Now about that job" the Jarl gestured the nord and the two khajiits to follow him. "My court mage, Farengar, is most interested in the subject of dragons, and with a little help has located an object he says is important to locate."

As they approached the mage, he looked up, seemingly angered by the interruption from his book. But the anger disappeared immediantly when he saw the jarl.

'I've brought you help on your little project."

"Oh, good." He turned to Turro, Atvarii'Kal and R'Jurl. "I've come across a suggestion of an ancient stone tablet containing the locations of ancient dragon burial mounds. Are you all willing to get it for me?"

"Where is it?" Atvarii'Kal asked.

"Straight to the point. I like that. It's in Bleak Falls Barrow. In the anti-chamber."

"R'Jurl and I both cleared that place out. Neither of us saw such a tablet."

The mage frowned. "It should be in there."

"Let's double check," Turro offered. He nodded to the mage before turning and leaving.


End file.
